


Ain't it a gentle sound, the rollin’ in the graves?

by wytch-lyghts (flight_on_broken_wings)



Series: Widofjord AU Excerpts [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Evil, Former Volstrucker Caleb, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pirates, Plank King Fjord, badass characters all around, excerpt from the longer fic I won't write, only hints at the plot, protective and possessive Fjord is best Fjord, suggestive ending, widofjord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_on_broken_wings/pseuds/wytch-lyghts
Summary: Caleb's shoulders finally fell. A heavy sigh fell from his lips with them, Caleb’s thumb digging at the jagged, thick scar running across his palm—the same one that's twin marked Fjord’s hand. A physical reminder of that agreement, a promise to help rid Darktow of the threat of the Clovis Concord’s expansion and a promise to rid Caleb of his demons in turn. And every other promise between them that followed which had ever been written, sworn, or whispered into sheets and overheated bare skin in the dead of night.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Series: Widofjord AU Excerpts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988698
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118





	Ain't it a gentle sound, the rollin’ in the graves?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's NFWMB, fic inspiration from the same, in addition to a prompt from @bicalebwidogast on twitter. Many thanks Nev.

A wretched wind tore across the storm-harrowed cliffs. The grey wall of rain thundering against the rock face turned the already perilous staircase ascending the cliffside to the Throne Roost nearly into a waterfall, impossible to traverse. 

Caleb dare not try, though blistering agitation simmered like live coals behind his sternum, and it could not be contented with blind pacing back and forth across his study. His mind leaped from one ugly conclusion to the next while his heart raced behind to tell himself off for it. He knew better. Though be it irritation or that doomed effort to catch up with his own thoughts as they turned dark, his blood burned all the same. 

_ Irrational, _ he knew. He should calm down. It wasn’t worth the upset. There was certainly an explanation. Yet the words of the spell were already at his lips, and his mind had been in that chamber of the Throne Roost for the last twenty-three minutes already, envisioned clearly. And truly, it felt good, felt  _ better _ , to lean into the anger, magic singing through his blood just like adrenaline except  _ this  _ was under his control.

Cursing darkly to himself, Caleb began the familiar incantation.

And for that one familiar moment, the aged floorboards disappeared out from under his feet as the Teleport spell dropped him into darkness. Then his boots hit well worn stone, and gravity righted itself. 

The two guards resting far too comfortably against the soot stained cave walls on either side of the closed double doors jolted forward, startled by the sudden rush of warm air as Caleb appeared before them. He was certainly not a feature out of place among the halls of the Throne Roost, though rarely did he make such an entrance, particularly unannounced. They recognized him on sight. And he was sure they knew the rigid set of his shoulders and the cold expression he wore even better.

Still, he liked to think it was the palpable threat he himself posed and not the risk of angering their Plank King that had the guards fumbling upright and snapping to attention, eyes locked ahead.

“Where is he?” Caleb demanded, his words clipped, tone scathing. They knew well enough who he meant without elaborating. Who else?

“War room, Sir. The captains ‘aven’t left yet, on account ‘a the storm.”

Right. And here he’d hoped to do without the captive audience.

“Out of my way.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The echoing of heels setting a damn near militant pace down the stone hall outside, while they all heard it, hardly prepared them for the heavy double doors to burst inward with a sudden shove of magic, the same twist of Caleb’s will—because who else but Caleb—sending the coals in the hearth and every torch sconce bursting to life as if to announce his presence. 

Most of them jerked hard, swearing as their drinks spilled and heads swiveled. Fjord settled deeper into his chair at the head of the table, chuckling into his cup as Marius nearly fell out of his seat. Avantika, only Avantika, didn’t seem to react, something calculating and cold that he never liked flashing through her eyes before it was gone just as quickly. 

Caleb was striding into the room just a few beats behind. His hair was falling out of its tie in messy wisps around his face, hands ink stained and sleeves shoved up to his elbow like he’d stepped away in the middle of his work. He made a hell of an image, his wizard—soft and fuckin’  _ domestic  _ when he went without the coat and layers of formalities he wore like armor. That thought had nothing to do with the pleasant buzz at the back of Fjord’s skull, though it might’ve been responsible for whatever was unfurling warm and possessive in his chest at the sight of him, wanting nothing more than to pull Caleb away and have him to himself. . 

The drink might’ve also been responsible for the fact that he was just a few seconds too slow to realize that something was wrong. Anything but perfectly put together, emotions behind whatever wall he’d constructed, wasn’t the way Caleb carried himself in front of Fjord’s captains. But the look on his face was as thunderous as the storm tearing up Darktow outside, and the seemingly unintentional flare of the firelight by his mere proximity suggested that whatever control he normally held over his tether to the arcane was dangerously frayed. 

Fjord didn’t like that.

That warmth inside his chest twisted, his brow furrowing. “Caleb –”

“All of you, out,” Caleb ordered before Fjord got two words of greeting out of his mouth. “Now.” 

His eyes were on Fjord though his words clearly weren’t for him, tone that sort of cold and carefully measured that dared anyone disobey. It was rather forward of him, the newest among their inner circle, asserting himself. In any other circumstance, had he not looked quite so distressed, Fjord would have preened at it.

A heartbeat. Two. Fjord’s eyes flicked over the room. A few of them—nervous—and a few more—curious but not willing to test the situation, eyes darting between them—began to rise from their seats, but the rest looked surprised at best, irked at worst. 

Avantika, because she was Avantika, rolled her eyes. “Respectfully, Widogast,” she began, turning a smile at Caleb that started a low rumble of warning behind Fjord’s sternum. “You don’t give us orders.” 

Caleb’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger as, slowly, he turned his gaze on Avantika.

Beau was between them in an instant, a hand held up as if to bid Caleb to pause while she treated Avantika to a sharp look. “This is really the fight you wanna pick?” she questioned. 

Avantika’s eyes flicked to Fjord, her smile tightening with distaste, growing more and more bold in her opinions these days. “Yet,” she added to her comment, ignoring Beau entirely. 

Before Caleb could speak, the angry flare of the torchlight and the rising heat in the room broadcasting his irritation to some, his fraying self-control to Fjord, a snarl reached Fjord’s lips, twisting his expression before he could think better of rising to her bait. 

“You heard him,” he warned the room, his glare fixed in Avantika in particular, voice dangerously low. “Out.” 

Chair legs scraped harshly against the stonework, most of his captains and quartermasters only too eager to file out of the room. Yasha hesitated by the door though, watching Avantika, the slowest to rise, and casting a look from Fjord and Caleb, unmoved from where he stood ramrod straight and coldly furious, for any indication to intervene. With Beau bearing down on her, Avantika waited only enough heartbeats to truly test the limits of his patience before she finally inclined her head and acquiesced. 

“Your Grace,” she said with a sharp smile as she began to rise from her seat, too much mocking for his liking.

“ _ Now _ ,” he growled. And there was that flash of resentment in her eyes again. Fjord couldn’t see what look she treated Caleb to as she brushed past him, but Caleb answered with a sneer, teeth bared in warning. The air around him crackled; his eyes, normally a sea glass blue, were damn near electrified. 

It only faded marginally when Avantika had strutted out of the room, past where Yasha waited to close the doors with a resounding, dull thud throughout the chamber.

Fjord let out a heavy exhale, scrubbing his hands over his face. When he looked up again, Caleb had yet to let go of the tension he carried, his eyes falling before his shoulders did, the anger that had shone clear as day on his face abated into a cold, impassive stare.

“Fuck that woman,” Fjord muttered as he rolled up out of his chair, checking his hip against the edge of the table, his fingertips tapping restlessly at the polished wooden surface. He eyed Caleb up and down once, needing to be sure he was alright, though he was still uncertain of the problem. 

“I think she is going to try to kill you someday,” Caleb stated quietly, so quietly Fjord thought he’d misheard. “I really do.”

He swallowed, hesitant to go to Caleb without knowing he’d be receptive to it. His posture was still guarded. Still prepared for violence. And not only to be on the receiving end of it.

Too often since he’d been found in that brig, muzzled and bound in lead in the way only mages were, and brought to Darktow, Caleb looked prepared for violence. 

“She might,” he agreed cautiously. “A problem for another time, maybe.”

He paused a moment, for Caleb to say something, to do something, even if it was just to drag his eyes up off the floor. 

“Something’s happened?” Fjord prompted gently at his silence.

Caleb let out a halting breath, his expression twisted with frustration, jaw working, though he didn’t try to speak. His eyes flicking back toward the doors instead. 

If Caleb wanted privacy, that only slightly narrowed down the range of possible issues that would have driven him to seek him out. Fjord was confident enough Yasha and Beau would’ve ushered the rest out of eavesdropping range, and even if they didn’t, fuck them, he already knew what they whispered about the Plank King behind his back.

Fjord tried a cautious step forward, aching to go to him. To touch. Reassure. Protect. “Caleb? Tell me,” he coaxed, his hands out like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. “What’s happened?”

“You promised,” Caleb rasped, the words pulled from him suddenly, his jaw still tight as his eyes burning right through Fjord. 

And he looked  _ hurt _ , looking at Fjord like that. Angry in the way that spoke of too long a history in the feeling.

Sounded it too, lethal facade melting away into something only he got to see. A wounded sound in the back of his throat, Fjord took a step forward, just the one, watching for any cue he should stop. “A few things,” he agreed, trying not to sound indignant, steeling his expression instead. “I have. We  _ both  _ have,” he emphasized. “We have an agreement, you and I. I meant to see it through. All of it. You know that.” 

He had to know that. 

If Caleb doubted that now, Fjord needed to know what or who was responsible so he could cut out their lying tongue. 

For a drawn out, impossibly tense moment in which Fjord’s heart threatened to pound its way out of his chest, Caleb just  _ looked  _ at him. 

And then his shoulders finally fell.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips with them, Caleb’s thumb digging at the jagged, thick scar running across his palm—the same one that's twin marked Fjord’s hand. A physical reminder of that agreement, a promise to help rid Darktow of the threat of the Clovis Concord’s expansion and an promise to rid Caleb of his demons in turn. And every other promise between them that followed which had ever been written, sworn, or whispered into sheets and overheated bare skin in the dead of night.

Still achingly slow to respond, Caleb at least seemed a bit more receptive as Fjord carefully closed the rest of the distance between them, projecting his every move that Caleb might protest it. But Caleb’s eyes drifted shut as Fjord’s hands gently settled at his waist, tucking him closer. 

“I know,” Caleb rasped.

He stopped fidgeting and pressing at that scar. His hand flexed once instead, and settled against Fjord’s chest, a warm brand over his heart. “I knew that when I came here, I think,” he repeated softly, guilt that Fjord was uncomfortable hearing sticking at the back of his throat. 

“None of that now,” Fjord chided, brushing a kiss against Caleb’s forehead. “What’s upset you? Tell me. I’ll keelhaul whoever’s done it as soon as the storm lets up, you just give me a name.”

Caleb didn’t have to say anything, the way his brow pulled as he lifted his head to meet Fjord’s gaze like that, utterly unamused. For all he tried to keep his mouth a hard line though, the faintest quirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, endeared despite himself. 

Fjord huffed, chasing down a stray lock of auburn hair and tucking it behind Caleb’s ear. “Or I could throw ‘em off the cliffs if you’d prefer. That’s of course a more immediate solution, but I thought you might appreciate a bit more effort.”

Caleb swallowed, closing his eyes and leaning into Fjord’s touch just slightly as Fjord let it linger. He curled his hand to cup the nape of Caleb’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair and gently tugging it free of its tie, thumb stroking at the soft skin behind his ear. 

“You know that–” Caleb’s voice caught uncomfortably, his brow pulling tight. He started again, more quietly. “You know that Ikithon is on the Winds of Aeons.” 

So that was what had Caleb so skittish. Fjord’s heart twisted sharply in his chest, his grip on Caleb tightening just a moment, possessive, protective, instinctual. A displeased rumble escaped his chest. Which of them he was reassuring as he gently pulled Caleb to his chest, he couldn’t be sure.

“He and DeRogna are attending the peace talks. I– I told you that,” Caleb muttered coldly into Fjord’s shoulder.

“You did,” Fjord agreed, just as softly. The rage that boiled up inside his chest at the reminder of what exactly Caleb had been running from—what he was still hiding from—when they’d met wouldn’t help here. There was nothing that wasn’t still half an ocean away to direct it toward. Fjord cleared his throat. “And I promised I’d liberate his head from his shoulders myself, though you made me amend that to just seeing he gets his due one way or another, if I recall.”

Caleb didn’t say anything to that, still searching for the right words.

“Anything in Exandria,” Fjord continued. “Fuck, beyond it. Anything at all you ask of me, you know I’d move heavens and hells to make it happen,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, tipping Caleb’s chin up to look at him as he did. In a way, it was. “So what’s got you thinking anything’s changed?”

“I– you know I–” Caleb sighed, his head dropping slightly. “That’s sweet of you,” he mumbled. “And, you know I… feel the same,” he stuttered after a moment’s searching. “Though perhaps it is the reason your captains despise me so.”

“They don’t,” Fjord disagreed. “And you’re not answering the question.”

“Some of them do. And make no effort to conceal as much.”

He scoffed. “The same ones despise me, but nothing’s changed there and there’s still fuck all they can do about it but swear and drag their feet.”

Caleb looked up at him, pulling away slightly, suddenly serious. “Do not get comfortable with that thought. Do not get complacent. If they think you are weak or no longer serving their best interests or even a moment, they will smell blood in the water and turn on you like sharks.”

He hummed, considering it. “Firstly, my taking a liking to a powerful wizard is hardly a weakness,” he corrected. “And secondly –”

“Perhaps you should not be so quick to defend me,” Caleb interjected, too level, too dry for Fjord’s liking. “To take my side.” Fjord  _ hated  _ how resigned to the idea he sounded.

“Bullshit,” Fjord all but growled. 

“I am just being practical –“

“Well fuck off with that,” he warned, just as sternly. “You’re not a pawn to me and this isn’t a game. I’ve made my decisions and I’ll stand by them. That  _ means _ something to me, Caleb.”

A pause. 

Caleb diverted his gaze. 

Exhaling, Fjord reached out, the backs of his knuckles brushing over Caleb’s cheek where a bit of charcoal was smudged. “Understand?” he asked, softer.

Caleb didn’t respond to that, though Fjord wasn’t convinced it was because he’d changed his mind. “You said ‘secondly’,” he said after a moment. 

The corner of Fjord’s mouth hitched in a grin. “I did. Secondly, I get where you’re going with the comparison, but all due respect, you don’t know shit about sharks.”

“Maybe not of the marine variety,” Caleb admitted. “I think that could be forgiven. But more surprising is how  _ you  _ still do not seem to know shit about politics. And that I think is the more grave of our two deficiencies, no?”

Fjord couldn’t help but bow to that logic. “Well, it wasn’t politics that put the head of the last guy to hold the title on a spike on the beach, it was an idiot with a sword. I think I’d know,” He chuckled. “Still had to be done all the same.”

Caleb shook his head, disapproving. “You may be precisely that idiot if you fail to understand the very basic point I am making,” he criticized bluntly. 

“Maybe you should teach me a little bit about your Empire brand of politics. Seems brutally effective. Made you good at dodging questions, too.”

Caleb’s eyes snapped to his, and Fjord regretted his words the moment he did.

“I’m sorry. That was a step too far,” he apologized, rocking his forehead against Caleb’s, pleading forgiveness. Fjord’s hands brushed up and down Caleb’s sides lightly, soothing any ruffled feathers.

As Caleb took a measured breath, Fjord felt his ribs expand, glad at least he couldn’t feel each individual bone anymore. It didn’t matter that he’d seen Caleb crush men twice his size with a few words and a gesture. Had seen him do worse things to ships with that fire of his. And yet he was still such a little thing under Fjord’s much larger, callused hands, and he was unable to hold him like he was anything but fragile.

“Have I not tried?” Caleb asked, pulling Fjord out of his wandering thoughts. 

“To teach me? You have,” he admitted in fairness. “Not sure I’m a very good student though.” He paused, worrying at the inside of his cheek before Fjord decided to continue. “And I’m not sure you stormed in here all hot and bothered and demanding my attention to tell me off for my lack of politicking either,” he critiqued lightly, softening his words with the gentle drag of his fingertips up Caleb’s back, following the curve of his spine.

Caleb hummed, noncommittal, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He nodded slightly, not quite meeting Fjord’s gaze. “I have been foolish,” he mumbled. “I– I acted hastily.” Then, more quietly, “I knew I shouldn’t. I let myself… doubt.” 

He didn’t say ‘doubt  _ you’ _ , but it hung there unsaid. 

Tsking, Fjord turned them, walking Caleb backward with a gentle nudge, back toward the table to take a seat. “You? Foolish? I doubt that very much. Just tell me,” he coaxed. “What about that monster and DeRogna got to you? What made you worry anything had changed?”

The chairs had all been pulled out and left in a haphazard arrangement by their last occupants’ flights. With a cursory glance around, Caleb opted instead to perch on the edge of the table itself. That was just fine by Fjord, who made room for himself between his knees, fully enamored by the soft little sound that escaped Caleb’s throat as he shifted further back and let his legs be moved to accommodate him. Fjord brushed a chaste kiss against his cheek, against his jaw, lower. Nosing down the pale line of his neck, Fjord allowed his tusks to scrape at the hum of his pulse, where the last bruise—last  _ claim _ , some unhelpful part of him supplied—that he’d left there was fading. 

Caleb’s words echoed in his mind.  _ As if  _ he’d just throw Caleb to the wolves. If his captains didn’t know where Fjord stood on this particular matter, they were fucking blind.

As he laved the sensitive spot with a little more attention, Caleb squirmed, the surprised, breathy sound falling from his lips making another low rumble escaped Fjord’s chest for an entirely different reason. 

When Fjord retreated to look at him properly, color had risen to Caleb’s face. He shied away from Fjord’s attention, hot shame making it all the way to the tips of his ears. 

He cleared his throat. “Orly said you called the ships back to the north side three days ago. That they’re anchored and will not be prepared to leave until  _ at least  _ the week is out,” he began to explain, quick and unsteady. “I– that was not what we last discussed. I would understa–” He stopped himself short. “The storm, yes, a delay would be in order, but  _ days  _ ago?” There it was again, the misery creeping back into his voice, his breath shallow and fingers worrying away at his palm, at his forearms again, nervous energy refusing to dissipate. “And then, and then I was told you had called a meeting just today I had heard nothing about, and I–”

Caleb closed his eyes tightly, his jaw tight. His fingers grasped at the loose front of Fjord’s shirt suddenly, winding tightly into fabric. Fjord didn’t make him elaborate any further. 

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, we’ve both been busy but that’s no excuse; I should’ve brought you up to speed on the details sooner.” He took a moment to collect his thoughts, guilt settling uncomfortably in his gut. “I forget,” he said softly, “all that impressive shit you’ve got inside your head doesn’t much extend to sailing, or weather patterns this far south, for that matter.”

Caleb blinked, confused. Unthinking, Fjord rubbed the pad of his thumb over the pout of Caleb’s lower lip, making him turn away, brow furrowed darkly in protest. But only for a moment before he watched Caleb’s expression soften. 

“Nothing substantive’s changed, just our departure plans,” he explained. “The same storm that’s hitting us right now has been brewing for days.” Caleb’s eyes flicked back up to meet Fjord’s, the look in them dubious. “At some point you just get a feel for these things,” Fjord shrugged. “It’ll hit the Empire convoy just the same as us, I’d just rather ride in on its tail end than try to outrun it. As for the meeting today, that was just about keeping the rest of these bastards in line while we’re gone. Politics, if you will,” he huffed, and paused, trying and failing to gauge Caleb’s current headspace. 

Everything about the culmination of their weeks and months of planning made him anxious, the last minute change without context no exception. It didn’t help that he hadn’t heard it from Fjord, and had all that time to stew on it, working himself up into a wreck about it. Really, Fjord should have seen this coming. 

“Make sense?”

Caleb exhaled slowly. Breathed in. Nodded.

“Whatever your reasons,” Fjord resumed, not wanting to dwell on it for Caleb’s sake, “I’m glad you’re here. I was getting bored of those assholes anyway.”

That got a slight smile out of Caleb. “They will still be milling about out there, I suppose,” he said, indicating toward the doors and the hallway branching off the cavernous throne room beyond. 

“Fuck ‘em,” Fjord shrugged, “the storm’ll let up eventually. I’m done playing host. And,” he added, leaning in to whisper in Caleb’s ear conspiratorially, letting his hands settle on his hips again, “I quite enjoy when you start throwing your weight around. Most of them still don’t quite know what to make of you.”

Caleb snorted, his fingers dancing up the front of Fjord’s chest to curl into the collar of his shirt. “Even as long as I have been here to irritate them, still they cannot quite tell if I am your kept man or some new weapon you’ve acquired to hold over their heads, I think.”

Fjord wrinkled his nose at that, uncomfortable with any sort of idea Caleb got in his head about himself or his current situation that resembled anything like the chains he’d been in before he’d arrived there, or the use he’d been put to in the Empire he’d fled. “I don’t think I like either of those options…”

“Bit of both perhaps?” A hint of a smile touched Caleb’s voice. Only joking, then, in his own way. 

Fjord let himself smile. “As long as it keeps ‘em on their toes.”

Caleb hummed a note, his eyes sliding over Fjord’s shoulder, distant for a moment. “I worry,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “we won no favors from them for this.”

“You worry about too many things.”

“You worry about too little.”

Fjord scoffed, faux offended. “False. I think I’ve got my priorities right. Everything else will fall into place,” he shared, confident in that. He kissed Caleb’s forehead again, tipping Caleb’s chin up and ducking down to steal a kiss properly. 

Caleb’s eyes drifted shut, his jaw going soft, pliant, perfect. 

Fjord didn’t ask, didn’t  _ presume  _ to ask for much more than that. Not right just then. Not there. After a moment, he broke away to breathe deeply, his hand settling possessively at the back of Caleb’s neck as dropped his head to Fjord’s shoulder, keeping close. 

“Stay,” Fjord asked instead, murmured against Caleb’s ear. For the first time he let his voice dip an octave lower than merely comforting, turning suggestive. “Stay with me tonight. I was going to call for you anyway, whenever I could get them to leave.”

Caleb’s arms looped loosely around his waist, fingers curled into his shirt. He turned his face into the side of Fjord’s neck, his eyes closed, nuzzling closer. It made Fjord’s heart skip a beat. He had almost everything he wanted. Almost. But he thought he could’ve been satisfied with just this.

“It wouldn’t be so bad, maybe,” Caleb mumbled, letting out a deep, contented sigh, and making no move to extricate himself from Fjord’s arms.

Fjord huffed, equal parts confused and amused. “Staying the night?”

Caleb smiled, shaking his head as best he could without making any effort to lift it. “Being kept.”

Fjord laughed, lowering his head to muffle the sound in Caleb’s hair, warmth blossoming inside his chest. “No?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Caleb hummed, his voice still colored with amusement. “Not just by anyone, mind you,” he amended, faux serious suddenly, as he lifted his head to look at Fjord. “I have standards.”

“Well that makes me feel better at least,” Fjord said, grinning. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” Caleb agreed, rocking forward to capture Fjord’s lower lip in a light kiss, more chaste than the last.

Rumbling happily, Fjord dropped his hands to Caleb’s thighs, working them under his knees and lifting without warning, making Caleb inhale sharply as he wrapped his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist, holding tight.

“Oh this is new,” Caleb breathed, his voice decisively thinned, eyes dark and wide.

Fjord grunted his agreement, adjusting his hold under Caleb’s thighs and beginning to walk them toward the back of the chamber, where a door led deeper into the network of recesses and caverns that had long ago been carved out into a small stronghold. “In a good way?” he asked. 

“I like it very much,” Caleb admitted, low and indulgent, his breath ghosting warm against Fjord’s neck. “Are you taking me to bed now?” he asked, rocking his hips against Fjord’s belly, his teeth graving of his pulse teasingly. 

“That was my plan,” Fjord huffed, groaning at the breathy, pleased sound Caleb made as he rocked against him. “I know I make it look easy, but please don’t make this more difficult for me.”

“No?” Caleb asked, his eyes hooded and tone spelling all sorts of trouble. He brought one hand back from around Fjord’s shoulders, dragging his fingertips over Fjord’s collar and trailing them lower, down his front, and with some wiggling that threatened to topple them managing to work a hand between them until he –

“ _ Oh, _ ” Fjord breathed, stopping in his tracks, nearly stumbling. He cleared his throat, gripping Caleb tightly and burying his face in his shoulder. Caleb laughed, delighted. “That’ll do it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @wytchlyghts, don't forget to kudo pls I like them, comments even better


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